


Here We Fight Monsters

by juliancerulean



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:23:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliancerulean/pseuds/juliancerulean
Summary: Some monsters come from the Upside Down. Some lurk in our own homes. And some need to be driven out of our own hearts.Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers' lives return to normal after the destruction of the Hawkins Lab.Until the disappearance of Steve Harrington, that is.





	1. Glow in the Dark

Steve Harrington doesn’t like being at home. 

It's a nice house - his parents can afford the best, after all.

And he’s lucky to have a large, warm bed, a roof over his head, his trophies lining the wall. He has a dresser full of cassette tapes (mostly Queen, these days – that Freddie Mercury can really sing), science fiction books (a lot of the cheap pulpy ones, mostly) and a box of cigarettes he tried once but hated too much to try more than one. 

On top of the dresser, he keeps a photo of himself and Nancy. It's a Polaroid they took next to a swimming pool, Nancy in a bikini and Steve in sunglasses, laying on a colourful towel. He's turned it over since the breakup.

In his closet he keeps his clothes in piles. What’s the point in hanging them up? There’s a box hidden at the back where he keeps his Farrah Fawcett hairspray, the secret to his legendary mane, and a pair of earrings he was planning to give to Nance, before, well..

The rest of his room is a cluttered mess of junk his parents have bought him but he's never used. Boxing gloves, cuff-links, Proper Suits and Ties they've desperately tried to get him to wear, a dusty King James Bible his mom urges him to read, a set of golf clubs.

Outside his room, the house is so immaculate it’s hard to believe anyone lives here. And most of the time, they don’t. His parents are either at work or talking about work. If they talk to him at all, it’s over dinner – often ordered in - about what he ought to be doing, how he needs a haircut, how they don’t like him associating with the backwards Byers and Wheeler kids. The swimming pool out back is cleaned by a pool boy weekly, but rarely used.

Steve knows he’s privileged to live here, but it’s still a lonely place. 

He drives around until he’s out of gas, wastes time in the arcade (he doesn’t even like video games, really, but he has all these quarters) and uses the golf clubs his dad bought him to shoot beer cans from the side of the road into the dump, until he realizes drinking won’t stop him from thinking about her and falls asleep in the back seat. He also remembers the beating his dad gave him when he found out he was drinking the last time, and that drives him sober.

He’s glad she’s with Jonathan. Really. (You’re a better man than me, Byers, he thinks often.) He isn’t jealous, really, either. 

There’s just an ache in his heart when he realizes Nance isn't by his side, or in his arms giggling at his stupid puns, or staying up late into the night with him watching terrible movies. Or snuggled under a blanket, taking turns reading books to each other in increasingly funny voices. Getting hot and heavy in his car. Holding her when she would cry about Barb and how much she missed her, and he would choke down his own emotions, trying to be an anchor for her. Turns out she needs no anchor - she's the strong one. He is the one who needs reassurance.

He plays tough, but he's still haunted in his nightmares by what happened to Barb, and he still feels guilty about that fateful night. 

Some nights he stays late in the gym to play ball or run until he’s too tired to stand, others he heads to the school library, stays as late as possible, studies hard and gets home at around midnight. No one at school knows what to make of 'King Steve' ever since he took up with Nancy and befriended that weird Byers kid. And he doesn’t really want to be around anyone, anyway. Nobody knows what to do with Steve the loner, not even himself. 

\--- 

Family dinners are spent listening to his mother and father talk about work and how incompetent everyone else at the office is. On the rare occasion the topic is different, it’s about something in the news. And if it’s neither, he eats alone while they fight in the kitchen, where they seem to think he can’t hear him. 

One night he sneaks in at 1 a.m. Someone is still in the living room.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time out these days, Steven,” his dad says from behind his newspaper. There’s a shot glass of whiskey on the table next to him and Steve can’t see his eyes, but he can tell he’s grinning. “Finally have a new girl in your life, eh? Sowing those wild oats?” 

Steve, wide-eyed and horrified, mumbled no, and goodnight father, and started heading upstairs.

“I’m glad you’ve finally realized she’s not good enough for you,” his father added, folding his paper and putting it aside, and Steve froze. “I’ve heard the rumours about that Wheeler girl. She sleeps around. Her mother probably does, too. You don’t want to mix with their kind.”

Steve wanted to say something nasty, but his throat just made a strangled sound. 

“Ball went late,” he said. “I’m going to bed.” 

He was hoping for privacy, but his mother was sitting at the foot of his bed. 

“How’s your day been, sweetheart?” she smiled, but her eyes were cold. She was dressed in a sequined nightgown and took a drag of her cigarette. 

“Don’t smoke in here, Mom,” he said. “Please. I mean, it hurts my lungs.”

“They say smoking is healthy, Steven. Maybe it’ll make a man of you,” she added, smile gone, holding up the can of Farrah Fawcett hairspray and shaking it. Oh no, no, no. Steve’s stomach lurched and he dropped his bag on his bed, covering his face. He couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t use this anymore,” she said calmly. “This is for women.”

"We agreed to what? It's just hairspray, and it works," he said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing toward his hair. “Chicks dig the 'do."

His heart raced as he wondered what else she’d gone rifling through, what else she might have seen. The notebooks in which he’d scribbled about Nancy? His books, which had been inside the top drawer and covering his cassettes, were now stacked on top of the dresser. The photo frame was gone. On top of the books was a brand new box set: the complete symphonies of Mozart, all in cassette form.

"I'm worried about you. You haven't been yourself these days. I thought you might try some classical music, something refined and relaxing. Mozart's my favourite."

“Worried about me?” 

“The hairspray, the earrings. Honey, I know why you really broke up with Nancy." Her voice was sweet, but her tone had a warning to it.

The name cut like ice.

“Mom, she broke up with me. And if you’re so worried about me, you could just ask. The earrings are for Nance. I mean, they were going to be." 

She didn't appear to be listening.

“I know you’re young and impressionable, but you don’t want to go down this path, Steven. I have not told your father anything about this yet. Think of our reputation. Think of your own.” 

She left him baffled, moving to leave the room, hairspray tucked under her arm. She turned back and tugged on his earlobe - Nance had pierced them for him when they were tipsy one night - and gave the earrings back to him. 

"Find a nice girl in our neighborhood and give them to her, Steven. Then I'll believe you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he said, earning a dangerous glare. "I mean, okay. I will. Night, Mom."

As she walked away, he shut the door very quietly behind her – she would certainly come back to yell at him if he even remotely slammed it – and ran to the corner, where his cassettes – not just Queen, but all of them – had been unraveled. Atop them all, some biblical tract about the dangers of rock music, the devil and homosexuality.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Steve whispered, wiping tears off his cheeks and ripping the magazine and tract in half, trying to coil the tape ribbons back into the cassettes, but it was futile. He slid to the floor and combed his fingers through his hair, touching his ear. 

He wasn't gay, but why should they care? They didn’t know the first damn thing about him or anything, anyhow. 

He shoved the remains of his cassettes into the trash and crouched next to it. He looked at the earrings, neon pink hoops with stars in the middle. The packaging claimed they were glow-in-the-dark. 

He still wasn't sure why he'd let Nancy pierce his ears, though he'd probably let her do anything to him out of adoration. He took one of the hoop earrings out of the case and struggled to get it through one earlobe, then looked at himself in the mirror.

Glam. He thought it looked great, and moreover, it felt good in a rebellious kind of way. 

He fell asleep curled up against the wall, unaware the next day would change his life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for 14winters

  
Jonathan is an observer, a people watcher. It’s a science honed over the years of reading Joyce and Will's faces for worry, and Lonnie's for warning signs.

What Jonathan is not prepared for is the sorrow he sees when he meets Steve's eyes at times these days, when Nancy isn't there.

And after the break-up, when their eyes do meet, Steve still nods, friendly enough, but Jonathan's stomach feels sour.

*******

Months pass, seasons change, wounds heal. 

But the life drawing class is a surprise.

Steve is still in town, taking a gap year between graduation and college, still not sure what to do with his life, he says on those rare occasions the three of them hang out. 

They'd made amends, Steve, Jonathan and Nancy, even though something strange still lingers between them. They go bowling, to the arcade, drive around in Steve's car,  
act like normal teenagers now that normalcy has settled in. It feels out of place, but good. And with the passage of time, Steve's hair grows longer. 

At the community college, Jonathan signs up to take an extracurricular life drawing class. It's something exciting and new, and he's used Nancy as a photographic model before, but he always said his hands were too clumsy to draw. Then learn, she said. 

"Is this seat taken?" 

Jonathan meet Steve's warm gaze when he appears, and nods with surprise. 

"You're taking this class?" 

"I'm the model," Steve smiles, and Jonathan feels his cheeks burning. "Good luck."

******

The next semester is Jonathan and Nancy's final, and seeing Steve has become extremely rare. Partly because they are neck-deep in studying, partly because Steve has withdrawn socially.

"He's working as a lifeguard," Nancy said one afternoon, returning from her part time job, collapsing next to Jonathan in bed and pulling herself close to him, lips against his neck possessively. He squirmed. "Or so rumours say." 

The next day after school, Jonathan leaves his jacket in his locker and basks in the warm spring air.

The pool building smells of chlorine and music echoes over loudspeakers like a roller rink. He pays his $2, changes into his green swim trunks, and walks in. There is no sign of Steve in any lifeguard's chair, not that rumours are terribly reliable, he thinks a little bitterly, sitting at the edge of the deep end and dipping his legs in. 

Then he sees a smooth pale chest full of freckles cutting through the water, and a red-cheeked face, lanky arms backstroking lazily but gracefully toward him. He's a bit surprised when Steve, drenched, pulls himself halfway up to lean over the poolside beside him. His hair pokes out from underneath a red swim cap.

"Where the hell have you been?" Jonathan asks, more lightheartedly than he intended to.

"Well, why are you stalking me at work?" Steve says, but it's clearly in jest. "Look, I didn't want to bother you two. I feel like a third wheel, and I've got plenty on my mind - including work- if you'll excuse me." 

"I want to draw you again," Jonathan says before Steve can swim off. Steve's face is unreadable.

"Draw me, or *draw* me?" Steve answered, Adam's apple bobbing. There was something in those shining brown eyes Jonathan was not too familiar with, not in a man's face at least.

"Yes or no, Steve?" 

******

It's Wednesday night at Jonathan's, and Joyce and Will are at Hopper’s and the Wheeler’s respectively for the night. Jonathan thanks his lucky stars for this chance. 

The curtains are drawn in Jonathan's bedroom, a Nina Simone record spins softly, and Steve is setting his clothes aside, sitting on a chair in his boxers and looking absolutely mortified. 

"It's okay," Jonathan chuckles. "You're handsome, a real model." 

Steve scoffs. He covers himself, suddenly self-conscious in these close quarters. Modelling for a class was far less personal. 

"You know, we have a chest in the basement full of clothes we don't use anymore," Jonathan says to break the silence. "Halloween costumes, hand-me-downs. You could choose something from there."

"I thought this was figure drawing." 

"Hey, I'm amazed you even agreed to help me practise," Jonathan smiles. "But I don't want you to be uncomfortable." 

So they have a bit to drink, but only enough to be tipsy, to assuage the awkwardness. 

Steve pulls out a transparent, white tulle skirt from the chest. It's Nancy's old Halloween costume, stretchy enough to fit most. It's short and pulls easily over Steve's slender hips, and he pats it down to make it bounce.

"You don't think this is weird, do you?" Steve said. "I just think it's.. glam, you know?" 

"It's very glam, Steve."

An hour later Steve is splayed out over Jonathan's bed modelling fake pearls, a tulle skirt, a silk scarf and a long faux-cigarette holder. His dark hair, loose and falling over his shoulders, is wavy and gorgeous. He is wearing silver star-shaped sunglasses and strikes a pose, knowing how over-the-top he looks. 

"You're enjoying this too much," Jonathan grins. 

"Shouldn't I?"

Jonathan ditches the sketchbook and reverts to the camera, taking portraits of Steve's most dramatic flair. Eventually he puts the camera aside and Steve tackles him to the bed playfully, wrapping the silk scarf around his neck to pull him closer. The doorbell rings and they collapse into laughter, Steve releasing him and standing to get the door. 

"Um, hi." Joyce nearly drops the bag of beer and snacks she's carrying, eyes wide as she takes Steve's strange outfit in. "Am I interrupting something?"

***

It’s the summer before they all leave for college and the fear and excitement in the air are all new, but tamer than previous challenges they’ve faced.

One cool night in June, Jonathan finds Steve half-heartedly swinging on a chain swing in the park, alone, in jeans and a t-shirt. There’s no tulle, no glitter or makeup in public.  
Jonathan is hit by the significance of the intimacy Steve has allowed him.

“Hey. Stuff on your mind?”

“No more than usual, Byers,” Steve kicks the dirt, eyes avoiding Jonathan’s, but he remains amiable. “You need something?”

Jonathan moves behind the swing, taking the chains in his hands, swaying gently to push it. The floodlights and full moon make everything seem otherworldly, but for once not in a sinister way.

There’s a glint off the faux-diamond stud in Steve’s ear lobe, and his hair has grown to his shoulders now. He has an ethereal, androgynous kind of beauty in the moonlight and Jonathan wants to tell him so.

Everything about him projects loneliness.

“There’s something you need to know," Jonathan says, edging closer.

“Look,” Steve kicks the dirt once more, “Nancy made her decision, and I’m not heartbroken or upset with either of you. I want you both to be happy.”

“Well I’m not happy, Steve. Nancy’s not, either. And you're not looking so good yourself.”

Steve looks over his shoulder at the impish boy, whose grin reveals a slightly crooked but endearing smile.

“You’re unlike any person I’ve ever met. There’s something different about you and I want to find out what.”

“You going to dissect me, Byers? Think I'm... odd?” he jokes half-heartedly, cheeks red. "Takes one to know one." 

"Look, Nance needs you, Steve,” Jonathan says. Steve cleary winces at the use of the nickname he used to call his girlfriend. 

“But Steve, I’ve wanted you too. Ever since that night we first faced.. you know? I’ve never seen anyone so brave or stupid or big-hearted as you. And Nancy never stopped loving you, you complete idiot.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs, voice cracking. “Are you professing your love or did you come here to insult me?”

"Both?"

It’s a good thing the park is empty and getting dark. In the diffuse glow of the streetlights through trees, Jonathan’s lips are hovering, teasing life-changing questions without words along Steve’s neck.

Steve’s shoulders stiffen, shudder and give way; he squirms, ticklish from the light kisses, a moan escaping his throat, a hand gripping Jonathan’s, the cold metal indenting their skin.

He doesn’t recoil when Jonathan presses his lips to his own, soft and warm and heavy with desire. When their lips part with a smack that breaks the silence, and Jonathan shyly tries to pull away, Steve keeps his hand locked in a vice grip.

“Oh, Byers. Look what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Their breath comes out in warm puffs, making clouds in the chill air, and tears fall on Steve's sleeve. Jonathan tries to join him on the swing, and they both hit the ground with a thud.

*******

Jonathan's always had her blessing, but he wants her to know this: 

How they stumble to the Byers' house, hiding their affection carefully in the street, making sure no one had come home before barely making it to Jonathan's bed, groping each other  
hungrily. How Jonathan pushes Steve over and straddles him like he was staking claim, pulling his clothes away and running his fingers through his loose hair.

How they make out, and whenever their bodies touch they feel the frustrating ache of heat between them, grinding their clothed hardness into each other and rutting in frustration. 

How Steve calls out his name as he rolls his hips to meet Jonathan’s, who is busily running his fingers over Steve's chest hair and nipples. His own brush over Steve's shaved chest, his skin as he kisses his way downward, brushing Steve’s collarbone, tickling his navel, touching his tongue to a sensitive hip bone and laughing huskily when Steve’s hips buck again, accompanied by a whimper.

How when he whispers “Nancy’s going to join us later,” fingertips teasing Steve’s dark, lower, curls, a lust-filled, muttered curse is all Steve can manage. He nods, yes, God, yes.

“Good. We’re going to show you exactly how much we’ve missed you.”

Steve white-knuckles the sheets as Jonathan’s smile widens and he sees the tip of his shaft disappear into the warm mouth of a man he loves, the intimate touch of a loving, swirling tongue to most-secret flesh, and he feels heaven isn’t far from here.


End file.
